The Hybrid Origin
by GagaBear18
Summary: Jezabelle's dead, Renee's missing, and the past isn't staying where it belongs. The Pack escaped the School but, ever since, Daniel's been having hallucinations that get worse every day and their powers are improving at a frightening rate. People say it doesn't matter where you come from, but where you go. But maybe in the case of a hybrid, it does. OC. Sequel to The Hybird Alpha.
1. As The Snow Falls

**Author's Note: **Hola, new and old readers! If you didn't get the memo, this is indeed a sequel to The Hybrid Alpha. (I'm in the process of editing the chapters to make them not so…choppy?) I recommend going and reading that first 'cause this really isn't going to make much sense without it.

So basically, this takes place the winter after the first book, which took place mostly in June of 2004. This is like December of 2004 to February of 2005. Around that time area. Also if you didn't get the memo! This is like a prequel to the Maximum Ride series, going into the history of the Eraser. Yessum, so if you're looking for strictly our beloved avian-hybrids, you ain't gonna find them here. This takes place twenty years or so before the series. Like when Jeb was in his early to mid twenties.

Review and tell me whatcha think of the kickoff? I've slightly developed the way I write so let me know how that went, too.

Oh, and if any of you were wondering, and I bet you weren't, NaNoWriMo was a complete and utter fail. Bad. Bad. Bad. I got one day into it before I decided I wanted to write about something else. I gave up and started on THO. (:

**X X X**

**Just know that these things will never change for us at all—Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol**

**X X X**

The Hybrid Origin: Chapter One

_December, 2004_

JACK

Snow flew across the sky in a flurry of white. When a stray snowflake would fall against the large windowpane, it would melt in seconds, the interior of the diner warm from the hot stove, the cold people, and the scalding mugs of hot cocoa, I noticed as I sat at a booth, my chin on my fist. We all enjoyed the snow, being that it was what our... animal's climate was. Snowy, cold, and mountainous.

The bell hanging over the door rang a _ding! _sound, and two teenagers walked in, cheeks cold from the below zero temperature outside and probably something more.

"Hey, Jackie!" Alex exclaimed, sliding into the large booth, Sky following with her freckled-cheeks and nose beat-red. "Haven't seen any snow lately have you?"

I smiled. "No, not at all, Alex. How's Kole?"

Both Sky's and Alex's lips tugged down. "He's having another one of his moments. Locked himself in the garage with some rundown car from the junkyard," Sky murmured. "Gabe's back at the house with him. Just making sure he's not alone in case... they show up. Danny, Zander, and the girls should be here soon, I think. They're driving back in from work."

I nodded. Kole was such a trooper considering all that happened, almost half-a-year ago. It would be officially six months in February. _Renee_ would have been gone for half of a year in two months. She'd have turned fifteen in October. She told me that's when her birthday was when we'd talked briefly. I had known her maybe a week and then she was taken from us, her brother.

And yet I still felt like it'd been years that I'd known her. I guess that's what you get, being what we are. A wolf hybrid that is. Mutated since we were only days old and growing up in a hellish existence with only each other for support on those days where you were Atlas holding the world up on your shoulders, not knowing if you could go on with it.

Kole was so strong for being only fourteen, now. He wasn't collapsing to the ground, moaning he couldn't go on. He worked out of our garage, working on computer and cars. Anything that required tools or wires, really. That was good enough for me, I guess. He wasn't lying on a bed staring at the ceiling, doing nothing but lay there for days on end so I took that as a good sign. I didn't know what to do and I was the leader. It was my job to know.

I glanced up at the two sitting in front of me. Alex, the jokester and clown of our group of delinquents, and Sky, our realist and redheaded temper. They were a couple; apparently they'd had this _flirtationship_, as Morgann called it, that'd been going on the years since we found each other on the streets of New York City. You could say they were that sickly, sweet, adorable couple that everyone hated because that's what they wanted in a relationship.

I watched as the two chatted back and forth, snorting one or two times when Alex said something so corny and cheesy that it beat his last record of cheesy-ness. Another _ding! _ricocheted through the small town diner. In sauntered Daniel Snitchzer, Morgann Blu, Aisling White, and Aleczander Eliot. Otherwise known as Daniel or Danny, Morgann, Ash, and Zander, four members our group of outcasts and misfits. "'Sup, you three?" Morgann hollered across the diner before she zig-zagged through all the coats, boots, and gloves to the circular booth.

Morgann slid in next to me and made a face at Sky. "When did my ginger best friend go all googley eyes on me?"

Sky scowled and sat up, her head having had been on Alex's shoulder beforehand. "Shad up, Blu," Sky muttered, scooting over as Ash, Daniel, and Zander finally made their way over.

"You girls are lucky with your long hair," Danny stated sourly, as he slid in next to Morgann. "Your head doesn't wanna freeze off."

"Yeah, but you don't have to blow-dry it all the way so your hair doesn't freeze to icicles and snap off," Ash muttered, following and Zander sliding in next to Sky, leaving me in the corner of the booth, next to the chilly window. "Plus, you could wear a ski hat, you know."

"Nope," he retorted, light-heartedly. _It must be a good day. _"Ski hats are for the weak."

I smiled slightly over a cup of chai tea and just watched as they all talked and laughed at each other. It seemed normal for once. Except at the same time it wasn't.

Because Gabriel was at the apartment making sure a broken Kole wasn't attacked by Erasers possibly sent by macho-sistic Dr. God scientists. Non-mutated humans didn't handle this kind of stuff did they?

I don't think they worried about organizations out to kill them, or worry about if they were safe from hybrids. But I could be wrong. I wouldn't know what it felt like to be wholly normal.

As I continued to stare out the window and sip my chai tea, I watched the snowflakes once more. They blurred together, and yet, every so often, I was able to single one out as it fell slowly, until it became just a mass of white or melted into a tear drop against the window pane.


	2. What Would Have Been

**Author's Note: **My internet is literally as slow as I am at 5:30 in the morning. And that's probably nonexistent movement. Considering I run into walls like I'm wasted or high. It's kinda sad. But, it took forever to get this uploaded. And, I know, these first two are a bit depressing. Trust me, I know. I wrote it. They're boring, too, but necessary. Comedy and actual meaningful chapters will come in soon. Like next two chapters soon. Alex, Zander, Sky, Morgann. Our comedians.

Anywhoo, again, thank you so much for the support, those of you who reviewed, followed, and favorited, and thanks if you're just giving this a try if it's your first encounter with me and my writing. And if you're one of those readers who just read a chapter when it pops up and you don't review, favorite, or follow, still thanks. You know who you are. (Although it'd be pretttty awesome if you did do some of those things… hint hint, wink wink, nudge nudge, kick kick.) They do mean a lot.

**X X X**

**I know the feeling of finding yourself stuck out on a ledge—Lullaby, Nickelback**

**X X X**

The Hybrid Origin: Chapter Two

_December, 2004_

JACK

Later that night, when we had all had our fair share of hot cocoa and coffee and I had gotten two cups of to-go coffee for Gabe and Kole, we walked back to the little house we all shared. It was a small, little thing with three tiny bedrooms, a fair sized bathroom, a living room, and a crowded kitchen.

Gabriel, Daniel, and Zander were all in one room, the largest, with three long twin mattresses and the girls, Morgann, Ash, and Sky, were in the second largest with a king sized mattress thrown in the middle of the room that they all shared. Alex and Kole were in the last room. And that left me on a mattress Gabe had to force me into buying in living room. All the furnature was given or bought from thrift stores.

Walking to the side of the house and rapping on the door that lead to the garage twice, it swung open to show Kole with his green-hazel eyes wiping his greasy hands on a towel. He stepped back and let me in without a word. Shoving a cup into his hand, I sat on one of the three stools in the garage—the one closest to the small space heater—and watched as he rolled under the car on a skateboard after taking a swig of the coffee.

"How's this one going along?" I asked him.

"Better than the last one. Not as banged up. I don't need as many spare parts," he grunted in reply from under the car.

None of us knew where he picked up the skills to fix things. Ash thought it was like her power manipulating itself into something better. She went from just appearances to full out changing species. Maybe Kole went from über smart and super strength to understanding how things worked plus the über smartness and super strength. I honestly didn't know.

I sat there awkwardly for a minute or two before standing up, the coffee meant for Gabriel cold in my hands, and said, "Well, I'm gonna go inside and see if I can't get this coffee warmed up for Gabe. Don't stay out too long."

Kole muttered a "yeah, okay," back to me.

Stepping out into the cold and walking over to the front door, I stepped inside the little pale yellow house. It was quiet, except for some murmurs coming from the three bedrooms, and the soft hum of the microwave. Kicking off the boots I'd bought from Wal-Mart, I shrugged off the black winter jacket and walked into the kitchen.

"How bad was he?" I asked hoisting myself onto a counter.

Gabe shrugged . "Just in a silent rage of his. He didn't really need me around to make sure he didn't go insane, but we can never be too careful with the School still out there. Especially with our escape and all."

I nodded in response and shoved the cup of coffee into Gabe's hands. "Figured you'd want some being that you had to stay with Kole."

Without giving him time to reply, I turned on my heel and went to the empty living room, minus the mattress and blankets. As I sat on the mattress, my knees pushed up to my chest and pale moon light filtering through the make-shift curtains, I stared at my arm right arm, exposed by my short-sleeved shirt.

Three scars ran the length of it, white instead of pink like a regular human would have because of our healing abilities, and wrapped around my arm like a vice, going from my shoulder and winding around to my wrist.

Jezabelle had made them as we'd plummeted off the cliff, scrapping her lengthened nails along my arms as I'd found a handhold and she'd plummeted, giving me the same look she had when we were five. They were a reminder of her and that week at the School.

_If only Jeza saw me now,_ I thought. _What would she say at how we are now?_

_She'd probably laugh like a lunatic and try to kill you, _Rea murmured.

I sighed out loud and smiled grimly. _You're right. She probably would._

Holding my head in my hands, I breathed in and out, like a therapist would teach a patient to. I was overwhelmed; there was no denying that. I had Kole, who was withdrawing and I didn't know how to help, the jobs we were all working to keep the itty-bitty house we were in now with the minimum amount of furniture bought from thrift stores, and,_ damn_, it'd been only six months since the School. A lot had changed.

Too much had changed. And it was too much to take in.

So when the world crashed down like an imploding building, I focused on the few days in California. It was one of the only truly happy collection of memories I had.

As I sat on the mattress, I watched the moonlight filter through a crack in the curtains. Eventually, it drifted out of sight, and left me in the dark to wonder what life would've been like.


	3. There Are Always At Least Two Options

**Author's Note:** I present to you the first meaningful chapter! The plot thickens! Slightly… Not really. Just setting up more setting. Okay, past that, meet a post-School Zander. I'll be mixing in the other members more often because the last book focused on Jeza and Jack, creating a pretense for this segment sorta. This one is more entire-character orientated.

Also, I have some chapters prewritten and most of it planned out except for a few spots where I'm debating on a few things, but I'm starting tumbling up and I have science fair, concert band, and this creative writing contest thingy for the dredded English class so be prepared for updates like THA (two weeks, maybe). January _should _be less chaotic. Hopefully.

Gracias for the reviews!

**X X X**

**I've got a dark soul, you can never see through it—Lightspeed, DEV**

**X X X**

The Hybrid Origin: Chapter Three

_December, 2004_

ZANDER

I don't think the Pack understood what it was like to have a family. Like the type of family that you could have Christmas without having to worry about whether the School was going to show up on your doorstep. I don't even think they've celebrated Christmas once. Or a birthday. I wasn't quite sure on that.

But I remember several of my Christmases and birthdays. All of them since age four, in fact. My parents had been White Coats when I was a but then I lived through the procedure of the DNA grafts and power implants, and my parents snuck me out. I didn't have any actual real experience of the School except for last June, and I couldn't fathom how the rest of my group had spent at least eight or more years in there.

As I stood on the sidelines of a street fight, hands shoved in my pockets and eyes trained on the ring, I calculated. The two current fighters had great statistics. The first one averaged out to have a win-lose ratio of 6:1 and the second, 7:1 after fighting probably fighting more matches than I could even dream of fighting. A close fight in my books. The winner—who was probably going to be the first fighter and had endurance and agility on his side—would probably face a newer fighter.

_I could fight,_ the thought popped into my head. Predict moves and bring home more money than just making bets.

But then there's also the probability that that will get us found by the School and then we'll have to run again sooner than we would have had to if I hadn't fought. Nobody ever said it and hoped we'd never be found, but I'd seen several scenarios where we were found. Two weeks at the earliest and seven months at the latest.

The temptation of fighting in the ring was like the feeling you might experience when you walked into a restaurant. The smell of grease was so overpowering and it was the same with the allure of a fight. It was so hard to resist. It was such an inhuman reaction, in my opinion.

I could just feel the twitch of my hands. I'd become more aggressive after the School incident in June. And I was still the most passive of our group being the omega. It was sometimes hard to imagine how aggressive Jack or Gabe might be, especially now.

I made my mind up and scanned the crowed, looking for the obvious School implants and the ones that blended more, before heading to the managing of the fight club and placing a bet of $200. If I won, with me having no reputation at _this_ fight club, I'd earn $300 and get back my $200. We made more cash here than New York, if I remembered correctly, but we had had a reputation there.

I shucked off my crappy jacket from a thrift store, kicked off the hiking boots, and rolled the sleeves of my long-sleeved shirt up. The other fighter had been the first fighter from the last match—I was almost always right—and his nose seemed like it'd been broken several hundred many times too many._ It kinda looks like the Wicked Witch of the West's nose in the Wizard of Oz, I thought._

"Why, hullo there, pretty boy," he sneered, his teeth red with blood.

I nodded at the other fighter before a horn went off, and the other man launched his body at me. He was fast, but not fast enough for a human that was only ninety-percent human. He skidded to a stop and turned slowly. Two scenarios flashed through my mind. The most probable outcome was going to be he ran at me again, and I would just keep side stepping him until he wore himself out completely, or he would stop, think about how to take me down, and then fight.

The first of the two happened, and I did just as I'd said. Ten minutes later, the young man was huffing and panting, looking like he was just about to pass out. I knew when to make my moves, and now was it. I made two swift side jabs to both his sides, before kneeing his stomach and bringing an elbow down hard. Well at least by the human-standard hard. A full blow from just me would have broken his neck and he would've been able to turn his head around 180 degrees, like an owl. If he lived. And that was impossible.

The man went down. The crowd stood silent before erupting into loud and animalistic howling and whistles.

The same reactions came from everywhere we went. We came, we fought, we conquered, and we left them wondering where and what we were.

I didn't think it would ever change. Not while the world remained ignorant about its "hospitals" and Nobel Peace Prize winners. Nope, it wasn't going to change. Not now. Maybe not ever.


	4. Don't Panic Yet

**Author's Note:** I've recently rediscovered The Mara Dyer Series. That is like some amazing shiz. Michelle Hodikin is so good, I wanna get to that level someday. The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer has left me awestruck.

Now, in the non-celebration of much hated semester finals, I give you a chapter.

Review, my lovelies!

FYI I don't own the Pepsi company. Nor the Texas A&M Aggies or the Kentucky State Wildcats.

**X X X**

**Don't panic, no not yet―Miss Missing You, Fall Out Boy**

**X X X**

The Hybrid Origin: Chapter Four

_December, 2004_

ASH

Everyone has their skills. Maybe you're athletically... exceptional or academically superior or artistically gifted.

I liked to think that when you were like me—a freak of nature, by all means, but yet still human—that you might be able to relate, even if just the slightest, through a skill. An Einstein might be able to talk to a Da Vinci and talk about how chemical reactions create better art. But what I liked to think and what was true were completely and utterly different things.

My boss for example, thought I was an artist, a musician. I would just sit, listen and watch the live performer in the high-end restaurant play their guitar, memorizing chords and positions. The memorization skills and eyesight gained through genetic experimentation was a big helper.

He even went as far as to suggest that I try getting a recording deal, once, as I sang while I washed dishes. I couldn't crush his suggestion, despite the fact that I couldn't help but feel bitter about it. It wasn't like I was going to become some pop star, like Usher or something. And I was most definitely not a musician. I was a wolf hybrid for Christ's sake.

But, me being Ash, master of anything dramatic and requiring lying inherited from being a teenage girl and _not_ a genetic experiment for once, I nodded, smiled, and said I'd think about it.

And it was ironic because I actually mulled over the thought of me, _me_, being a pop star or something of the sort. It was actually quite laughable if you knew me.

I was quiet, and I definitely did not like attention. The only reason I had sung was because I thought that everyone had gone home for the night, and I was the last one there, finishing up some left over work I'd offered to do. I was an introvert by all means. And by all means, I meant every single last cell in my body hated talking in front of large crowds and talking to people I didn't know all that well.

"Emily!" My fake name being called out snapped me from inner monologue.

"What?" I asked her groggily, my neck aching from behing bent over the table I wiping down.

Devin, a girl I worked the somewhat upper class Italian restaurant with, sighed dramatically. "We got several tables in your section waiting. I'd hurry out there and offer them some wine real quick if I was you."

I rolled my eyes slightly. Devin had this Texan accent that sounded a lot like Sky's at times, and it made even the simplest things seem so… dire, for a lack of better a word.

Grabbing a bottle of red wine, I did just as Devin had suggested and apologized for the somewhat long wait. _This job requires a lot of ass kissing_, I concluded, not for the first time. _All these rich kids and doctor or lawyer parents. Never know when they'll blow a gasket over something so small._

Jogging back into the kitchen with the orders, I slapped them into the ticket holder, and grabbed a bread stick. As I watched on the TV screen in the kitchen a basketball game between what I perceived to be a game between two college teams—the Texas A&M Aggies and the Kentucky State Wildcats, I heard one of the cooks say—I thought. I was a big thinker, if you hadn't noticed.

Devin popped up next to me again, and yelled something of an outrage against Kentucky. "I_ cannot_ believe that that ref did not _call _that! He _obviously_ interfered with that shot!" Devin screamed more curses that involved the referee's incompetence and other things.

I glanced over at the girl with an eyebrow raised. Devin was a short girl, maybe 5' 4", and had a petite figure. She had long dirty blonde hair and dark brown eyes with a quirky personality. She loved sports, and was working at the resturaunt to help pay for her tuition to the University of Vermont College of Medicine.

An hour later, my shift was coming to an end. It was nine o'clock, and most of the work left involved in cleaning up dishes and tables, making the restaurant clean for tomorrow. It was simple, a task of sweeping, scrubbing, and taking the occasional order to deliver to the kitchen. The little, suburban, town in Vermont was quiet. It was exactly how I liked it.

The beeper on my waist did its job, signaling I had a new customer in my section, despite the time of night.

I plastered a smile on my borrowed heart-shaped face. "Hi, my name is Emily, and I'll be your server for tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink?"

The man at the table looked up at me. He looked like someone from a magazine, photo-shopped really, with his sloping nose, prominent jaw line, and elegant lashes. I stood there awkwardly, the urge to rock back and forth on my heels growing stronger by the moment. The man looked me up and down, an emotion flashing through his eyes. "Pepsi will be fine."

Walking away, the hairs on my arms and neck stood up and the tiny voice in the back of my head whispered incoherent warnings. I brushed it off as the long work hours and typical paranoia getting to me.


	5. Tell Me I'm Wrong

**Author's Note:** Here's your day-early present guys. Hope you're enjoying the season and Merry Christmas to y'all(; But, to the point, thanks to all who've reviewed, favorited and followed. Have a great New Year's and Christmas Eve/Day. Or Hanukkah. Or whatever you celebrate.

Oh! And **koryandrs_: _**I'm flattered, if you thought I was in college. I am if you count my test scores, but I have yet to make it out of the hell hole known as junior high. And I agree. It's like all of a sudden they're just magically older.

Now, to the story. *cue jazz hands* Welcome to Daniel's post-School mind. I tried to make it longer but then it would have just ran on and on and on. FYI, I don't have a clue how guys talk so excuse me if it's off.

**X X X**

**I never said I want this, this burden came to me—Monster, Imagine Dragons**

**X X X**

The Hybrid Origin: Chapter Five

December, 2004

DANIEL

"Do you want to know the cons of being me, Kole?" I asked, lying on the wooden tool bench in the garage with one arm casually slung over the side. Kole was scooted under the car and the tips of his shoes could barely seen from where I was at. A radio played some talkshow in the background, and I barely registered the fact that they were discussing Hollywood drama.

"What?" He replied.

"I can't seem to be able to forget things."

"What do you mean?" I could hear the confusion in his voice. Kole hardly talked anyone anymore. Just Ash and myself really. I, personally, thought that Kole blamed all of us. Why he talked to me when I hadn't known him as long as Ash had, and I was just as much to blame if he was going to blame the rest was a mystery to me. _Probably just needed a moron to talk to_, a voice whispered.

I shoved my eyes closed. God. "I remember everything now. And it's not even just that. I notice shit a lot more. Y'know since the School. For example, the cashier at the diner we were at last week. Her middle name is Sierra and she's twenty-two. She also likes to chew on her nails; they're chewed to stubs. Oh, and she also swims a lot; chlorine has bleached her hair. "

Kole rolled out enough to shoot me a weird glance and a wrench before rolling back under the car on his skateboard. "First off, the nails are a bit obvious. Same goes for the hair. Second, how did you figure out her middle name was Sierra? That's just creepy. Anyway, we grew up in genetic labs, dude. Weird crap is _gonna_ happen."

"What about you and this grease monkey stuff? You think _that _is normal? We barely had a handle on this mutant stuff before and now it's like some evolution process has been kicked into hyper drive. I barely noticed . I don't think it's a coincident."

"Whatever. I'm not gonna say you're wrong, but I do think you're being a little over the top."

I sighed. "Well, fine. I'm gonna go for a walk. Just holler if you need me. I'll hear you. Oh, and the screw you looking for is a bit to the left."

Kole harrumphed, and grumbled something unintelligible. I had a point; I was sure of that much. I hadn't even seen the underbelly of the car, and yet I knew the exact place where a screw that held the piece of junk together was at. _Tell me I'm wrong,_ I thought.

• • •

_A giggle. A flash of a toothy smile. Grey eyes like my own. Flashes of images scatter across my vision before it focuses on one._

_"C'mon, Danny! C-can you take me to the p-park?" The little girl struggles to make the words come out, like she is still learning to speak and my name comes out as Den-E, and she grabs my hand. The little girl tows me along with surprising strength for a girl so small. She pulls me out a door and across a street. The sun is out and shining, and a bird is chirping._

_I feel confused. This situation feels like it's happened before. I can't remember it, though, so I can't be sure._

_When I come out of my thoughts, the little girl is sitting on a dark green swing, kicking her short legs back and forth in a futile effort to swing herself higher. _

_"Danny, push me!" She giggles. Her _

_A grin that I didn't choose to make spreads across my face. It's then I realize that I'm only about eight years old in this image. I'm several feet shorter, and there's several gaps in my teeth. Then I notice there's only myself in my head. It's before. I can feel it._

_I run behind the girl on the swing and shove. She screams with delight every time the swing goes higher. I blink, and three figures appear like smoke, the black wisps coming together to make human shapes. The three men are tall, muscly, and menacing looking. The sun is suddenly covered with black clouds. The girl screams with terror now. "DANNY!" She shrieks, her young voice a piercing force that makes my head snap to look at her._

_"Run! " The word isn't mine, but it still rips itself from me. "I'll find you!"_

_One of the men lifts me up so he can whisper in my ear. I'm still kicking and hitting and screaming like they taught me in school. It's not working, though, but I keep doing it anyway. "You're wrong. _You_ won't find her," he says and then I'm falling into black smoke._

_• • •_

My hand was still on the handle of the door. My knuckles were white and the door handle had melded to fit my hand. It seemed like it was the only thing holding me down. "Daniel?" Kole's voice was like hammer, shattering the remains of the image in a rage.

"What?" I replied, blinking. What was left of the image is gone, like the men: wisps of smoke that I had no hope of grabbing. A pressure was on my heart, like a monster had grabbed it and was toying with it, twisting it every which way. I was confused, panicked, like always. And, most of all, I wanted to know what the images were. They appeared like this all the time. This wasn't the first one.

I could almost feel Kole's limited concern as he stared at my back. I heard an almost imperceptible shake of his head. "Nothing."

I opened the door, a bank of snow a flimsy barrier between the outside and me, stepping into the flurry of snow. The door swings shut, and a few icicles fall down. Red, green, and white Christmas lights illuminate the street, and there's one inflatable decoration of Frosty the Snowman. His orange carrot nose is limp and folded down slightly.

I still had my boots on, the ones we'd bought a shoe store in California, and they proved useful plowing through the foot-deep snow. The cold doesn't affect me, barely getting a few goose bumps out.

My thoughts turned to the images that had flashed through my mind not moments beforehand. The little girl was a reoccurring person in the images. I didn't know who she was; I knew she was important, though. They started in the School, right after I'd killed the Erasers and one had laid in a twisted, mangled form. An image had threated to break free then, but I had had more important things to do. Like escaping.

I'd had another one, one that I'd actually seen, on the way to Vermont. The little girl had been laying on her stomach in her pink, flannel Hello Kitty pajamas, and moving different piece to a board game, Chutes and Ladders I think it was. Her baby-teeth were still paper white, and her cheeks still had her baby fat. It was around Christmas time because a Christmas tree was lit up in the corner, and the aroma of a ham was in the air. An adult female called out, "Kids! Dinner!" and the images dissapted like smoke. It always ended in smoke; dark, dark grey smoke that was suffocating just to watch.

Dogs barked as I walked past their fences, and were silenced just as fast as they'd started with a glance. Plumes of white appeared in front of my face as I walked. The city lights were visible in the dark. The town was silent. Eerily, darkly silent.


	6. Long Island Ice Tea, Please

**Author's Note:** I dunno 'bout you guys, but I'm absolutely in love with All Time Low. I was watching them perform on Palladia, and they were singing Lost In Stereo. I don't think I've ever realized how amazing this guy (Alex Gaskarth) could sing. I mean, I knew, but it never fully registered, I guess. Go look 'em up if your into the punk/rock scene. They're a lot like All American Rejects, if you've heard them.

Anywho, the information on the martini in the chapter is from Wikipedia so it's probably wrong. And excuse anything that doesn't make sense. I uploaded this from my phone and it likes to chop out words and rearrange paragraphing. Stuff is gonna start heating up. I'm excited. R&R!

**WARNING:** for any younger readers (if I have any), this chapter does discuss some thoughts and themes of alcohol. Just a beware.

**X X X**

**Never let a wound ruin me―Battle Scars, Lupe Fiasco feat. Guy Sebastian**

**X X X**

The Hybrid Origin: Chapter Six

_January, 2005_

JACK

Christmas passed. New Years soon followed. We fell into a routine. Unease overcame every one of my moves, like a second shadow. Routine meant sloppiness, and sloppiness was not a good thing.

"What if's" were a big subject on my mind. An ever present, you could say. What if they ambushed us? What if they picked us off one by one? What if we weren't ready? Then there was the biggest one: what if I couldn't keep them safe when the time comes to run or fight?

I couldn't keep them safe last time, with Jezabelle. Who was to say I wasn't going to fail again? Then again, I had learned from mistakes, matured so much that it made my head spin just to think about it. But I had to be open to the possibility.

I still had the force-field generation power from the orange-haired feline hybrid in the School. I could deflect things, bullets more importantly, if it came to it. I was still worried. Paranoid, if you really wanted to call it that, like Sky did.

We all worked jobs, to pay for a roof over our heads and cash to grab if-or rather when-we had to run. We all knew we weren't going to be able to stay for a permanent amount of time.

I knew Ash worked full-time as a barista at a higher-end Italian restaurant under the name Emily Barker, and Zander made bets on street fights under the name Riley Smith, if they even asked him for one. Daniel sometimes did odd jobs here and there as a carpenter named Blake Rodgers, but he mostly stayed at the house with Kole, who fixed up cars. Daniel was getting worse; he never said so, but I knew him well enough to just know.

I knew Sky was an assistant coach at some gymnastics gym under the name Michelle Carter, and Alex was also an assistant coach at a karate place under the name Michael Grover. Gabe―ulterior name: James Newton―did some private security job, making quite a bit of cash I might add, and Morgann worked at a Japanese fast-food restaurant chain in the nearest mall. (It was one town over since we lived in a town with a population of 4,000. Ash and Zander worked in that down, too.) I was stuck as a bartender (Fake ID and proof of existing courtesy of Alex.) making most my money from tips from drunk, wasted men. Black hair and blue eyes was a big hit with the "customers," apparently.

I had making cocktails and sliding beers down the counter top to an art. If it was, I'd be Michelangelo. Martinis, for example: use gin and some vermouth, or just gin, and garnish with an olive or squeeze the oil from a lemon peel into it. Then serve.

I'd tried the gin, and I wasn't all too fond of the slight burn that accompanied it. I wasn't fond of any alcohol, on that matter, after seeing how it dulled your reactions. I hated it. I didn't know if I could even get drunk with the whole regeneration thing, and I didn't want to find out. With my luck, I would and that would be when the School struck. Irony has always had this thing of picking on me.

As I popped the lid on a Budweiser and slid it down the metallic black counter top to a wealthy, college-age looking boy, my short bangs fell into my face. I blew them up with a puff. They fell right back into my face, and I started to regret letting the hairstylist in California chop them off into a swoopy style. They'd grown out some, I suppose, by now.

The bass of the club boomed and rattled through the old building, and bubblegum pinks, acid yellows, and fairytale greens danced across the crowd of writhing people. A guy dressed in a black button shirt and shredded, dark washed jeans made his way out of the mass and headed toward the bar. Eric, a co-worker, nodded at me, silently telling me to cover for him. "What'll it be?"I asked the guy, yelling over the music. He looked way too young to be in a club like this, but so was I.

"Long Island Ice Tea, please," he yelled back. _Heavy drinker, huh?_ I carded him, and he produced a most-likely fake ID. _Whatever floats your boat_, I thought.

As I turned my back to grab the different liquors, the hair stood up on the back of my sweaty neck. Every single fiber in my body was screaming, "Threat!"

_Rea, what is this?_

_I don't know. Stay on edge,_ she responded.

_Ain't I always?_

I turned back around to face the guy, my smile to tight to be genuine. He definitely noticed it. "Here you go. That'll be eight bucks."

The guy nodded, and pulled out his worn, cheap wallet, sifting through a wad of bills. As he pulled the money out, I couldn't help but notice his looks It was almost photo-shopped at a first glance; messy, dark brown hair, slender build with broad shoulders, gold eyes. But the gold eyes where what caught my attention. There was something weird, off, about them. It nagged at me, but I couldn't figure it out.

"Here," he muttered, handing me the sufficient amount of money with a decent tip.

I took the money, shoving it in back pocket of my too-tight jeans. The night went on, an uneasy routine of making drinks and popping beer lids on the counter. Eyes were always the window to the soul. It was something I was sure of. So what was his soul made up of?


	7. Karate & Gymnastics

**Author's Note**: Oh, there was a reference in this chapter that made me laugh. You might be able to spot it. (Hint: social network.) I remember when it used to be big. Now people don't have a clue what it is. Anyway. I made it long-ish. At least for my average word count. I think it's the biggest out of all of my chapters, even THA chapters. Yep, but R&R, and see if you can spot a reference to the movie Elf. It's so hard to keep things in that time era. But that's what I get. *cue smile* Ciao!

**X X X**

**There's a place in the dark where the animals go—The Sharpest Lives, My Chemical Romance**

**X X X**

The Hybrid Origin: Chapter

_January, 2005_

ALEX

Duck. Swing. Block. Kick. Roll. Repeat.

It was a simple tactic. Sure, sometimes you'd mix up the moves and add in a bite or something daring, but they were the basics. They were moves that I had memorized to where I could do them in my sleep. They were the foundation of a street fight.

But I didn't _teach_ street fighting, sadly. Or kickboxing. Or even just _boxing._ I taught—or rather supervised—something so simplistic and mundane that it was sickening: children's karate.

All the children crying for a parent when they did something wrong and smell of pubescent sweat was enough to drive someone mad. And if it was enough to almost drive me, _me,_ insane, it must've been impressive. I grew up in a torture center, and it didn't break me. But, somehow, children's karate did. It was sad if you asked me.

I worked under the table, and I hated every. Single. Minute. Of the job, that is. You could say I had anxiety issues. A constant buzzing in my ears, and a nauseas feeling in my stomach all the time. It was only when I was around Sky that it quieted to something I could ignore. I was different when I was with my family—the Pack. I was me again. A child at heart. Not like now, with a string of swears balancing precariously on the tip of my tongue and a unrecognizable malice.

I definitely didn't think this... change was worth the extra money. All I did was stand in a corner, in a ridiculous white uniform with a blue and black dragon on the back with the words "Hahn's Karate" were under it. But I never said so. It was a matter of learning to control the anxiety, or a matter of reputation, like I learned to control my hypnotism power. I could do it; I knew I could.

As I stood there, still in the hideous uniform, a snide remark bubbling under the surface, a little boy strutted his small self up to me. He was five or six, give or take. A small, arrogant, bratty-child smirk sat upon his face. I didn't like him already. "How'd you get that scar?" He asked, his chubby finger pointing to the scar that ran from temple to jaw on the left side of my face. "And why are you so short?"

My nostril's flared as I crouched down to his level. I was _not_ short. "I dunno, little boy. Maybe the Boogie Man decided that I was too bratty for my own good." _Kind of like you._

The kid narrowed his eyes at me. I copied, childishly. "The Boogie Man isn't real," he pouted.

A slow smile came across my face as a plan formed inside of my diabolical mind. The buzzing in my ears became more prominent with each remark the boy made. "You're right he isn't," I said slowly, chosing the words I was going to use carefully, "but do you believe in werewolves?"

The child snorted, but I could smell a fear pheromone starting to reek of his plump body. My nose threatened to scrunch up in disgust. "No," he spat.

"Oh, well, _I_ do. You wanted to know how I got this scar?" I motioned to the scar.

The boy nodded vigorously, his baby blues widening in anticipation. Ah, how impressionable children were.

I leaned forward so I was talking into his ear. I started off casually, like I was telling him the weather outside. "I used to be like you. Cocky, arrogant, even. That all changed when I was walking home from school. I was around your age, I think. I'd been walking along, my Spiderman backpack on my back, chowing down on a glaze donut from my teacher, when _bam!" My storytelling skills really needs some work,_ I thought.

The boy jumped as I clapped my hands with the _bam!_

"A creature jumped out of the bushes, tackling me to the ground. It dragged me out into the forest, and I screamed. I was terrified. It was pitch black, and the beast's steaming hot breath was the only source of heat. No one came. I was alone. I was _left_ alone. It dragged his claws across my face, leaving three deep wounds on my face. They healed to three scars; then they faded except for one. The one on my face. I'll never forget what it told me though, the wolf." As I'd been telling the very-much-so fake story, I'd leaned forward and my face was now an inch away from the boy's. His breathing was so loud and messy up close, wrecked with young, child-like fear. I withdrew myself from the snobby boy, standing until I was at my full height: 5 foot 4 inches. It still towered over the boy, despite the parents that were a full foot taller.

"What'd he tell you?" The kid asked, his words came out almost too fast and jumbled to understand.

"Don't _ever_ ask questions that don't want to be answered," I spat out.

The boy's eyes dilated, like they always did when I used the hypnotism thing, and a twinge of guilt shot through me, almost as fast and jagged as lighting. But lightning was gone in seconds, just like the guilt was. He didn't need to know the real way the The boy nodded, slowly. "Okay," he murmured. The boy turned on his heel, zombie-shuffling to his parents who had been speaking to the instructor, Mr. Hahn.

As parents and their children started to leave, a wave of juice pouches and Snicker bar wrappers started to appear. Of course, being the very good assistant I was, I picked all of it up. A few muttered curses here and there that many parents would have covered their children's ears for, but I still got the job done. Mr. Hahn couldn't complain about that.

"Alex, you go home, okay? You work hard today. You take day off," Mr. Hahn said, his homeland accent very prominent, while walking up to me as I swept the light hardwood flooring made for the dojo for the next session.

"You sure, Mr. Hahn?" I didn't want to go back to the small house I lived in. It was too... lived in, I guess was the best way to say it. I didn't like staying in one place. Whether that be from genes or past experiences I didn't know. Probably both.

"Yes, very sure. Go." He smiled, the small wrinkles around his almond-shaped eyes folding.

Ten minutes later, I had taken off the ridiculous uniform and changed into some street clothes that were too forgettable for even myself to remember. With a cheap duffle bag thrown over my shoulder, I walked out into the dojo on edge. The lights were all turned off except for a lamp on the front desk, but I could see perfectly fine, with the sunlight still beaming through the wall of windows.

As I neared the front door made of glass, a male figure on the other side of the street caught my eye. He was walking under a street lamp, off for the day, trudging through the ankle-deep snow. His hands were shoved into jean pockets. A baseball cap was pulled down low over his face and a hoodie covered by a brown leather jacket was thrown over the part that covered his head, leaving the bill visible; a move that was meant to prevent me from seeing his entire face. Or not. There was the possibility that he was just a modern, every day—

The figure stopped, right in the sidewalk. He turned to stare at me. _Is he with the School? No, he's just a simple pedestrian and you're too paranoid for your own good._

I stood frozen, despite my internal berating. My hearing automatically sharpened, as did my sight even more so than it was. My heart beat started to race, and a sharp pain appeared in my bottom lip: the canine teeth. They could be such a pain, no pun intended.

Was I overreacting? No clue. If I was, why was I overreacting? Again, no clue.

I stood in the doorway, frozen in place by curiosity. The figure took his hands out from his pockets, and continued to walk until he was a nothing on the streets of the city. My shoulder's slumped as he did so, each step the figure took taking a piece of adrenaline with him. I was overreacting. I most definitely was.

I dragged a hand through my hair, letting out an exasperated sigh. The moon wasn't full, and I wasn't a werewolf, so what could I blame?

I exited the dojo, a little bell ringing and Mr. Hahn's accented "goodbye" following the ringing sound. I didn't have to think about where I was going; my feet carried me there without a command: Champion Gymnastics, the place where Sky worked.

The cold nipped at my cheeks and nose, but it's best efforts couldn't get a sneeze or shiver from me. A cold sun shone down on the snow, and I wished I had brought my sunglasses. The snow was bright, blindingly so, and it wasn't supposed to melt for a while. Oh well.

People were out and about, pounding the snow into cached patches that would soon turn into ice. It made it easier to walk on at the moment, so I wasn't going to complain.

Finally reaching the studio, I walked inside, pounding the snow off my flimsy shoes on the outside wall. The receptionist smiled when she saw me; Rebecca knew me well enough to know I was there for Sky. "Michelle's in Studio Two right now with a class but you can go wait if you want, Michael," she said warmly before she went back to her computer. Probably MySpace or something social like that.

Walking into Studio Two, I watched with a smile as Sky helped spot a little girl into a backbend and recover from it. Sky was great with kids, something I, obviously, was not. Sky looked up, her red hair falling into her eyes, and glared playfully at me. I had the feeling she was wondering why I wasn't at "work." I sent her a sarcastic thumbs up. She rolled her eyes and went back to helping the kids do stunts and jumps on the trampoline.

The official coach blew her whistle and all the students ran over to her, making a circle around the one person. "Great job today, guys, and I can't wait to see you still next week!" The coach said enthusiastically.

The girls ran off to their parents in their leotards, and I stood up from my chair, stretching as I did so. "Hey," I said as a certain redheaded girl walked up to me.

"What's up, blondie?" She joked. I smiled and pecked her on the lips which wasn't hard considering she was just as short as I was at five-foot, three-inches.

"What's up, shortie?"

"Look who's talking." Sky glared up at me. It wasn't hard. "Why aren't you at that dojo of yours?"

I shrugged. "Mr. Hahn was in a good mood an let me off early. We didn't have anymore sessions except for a small on at five o'clock anyways."

Sky nodded. "Well, Mister, we should be getting home. It's almost four, and Morgann's getting off soon. So's Ash, and we can go get Zander."

"'Kay, whatevs. Totes," I mocked.

Sky snorted. "You are such a moron at times."

"But you love me anyway."

"True, true... But I still think you're a weirdo."

With that, we walked out the gym, holding hands like the completely adorable and cheesy couple we were, oblivious to the chaos that was about to start. You couldn't blame us. Zander was the one that could see the future, not us.


	8. The Pretty Girl With An Ugly Gun

**Author's Note:** I think I mentioned in earlier chapters that I was started up tumbling/gymnastics again, but if I didn't, I have indeed, so sorry for a longer wait. It's been a crazy past eight days. Science fair (like always), AP Math teachers that so need to retire, and book reviews. (The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer; I had to reread it for my review so that's why I mentioned that series in a AN.) Fun stuff, right?

Anyhow, the action is picking up, and I'm freaking psyched about it. Actually decent stuff to write about instead of fluff or filler. Yay! Back to the point, I think it deserves a review? Even if it is a tad short(;

**X X X **

**Everywhere I look I see shadows, haunting over me—Shadows, DEV**

**X X X**

The Hybrid Origin: Chapter Eight

_January, 2005_

MORGANN

As I walked through the footsteps in the snow, I blew a blonde piece of hair from my face. It still had the blue highlights from last June and years before, but now they were around three inches grown out from where they were supposed to be. I thought of just getting Ash to redo them now that she was Super Woman in all her powerful glory, but we didn't get along I was most definitely _not_ going to ask her for help.

The mall I worked at was always so busy, and the food court busier. The noise was so loud that I'd had to learn how to block out the sound, focusing on only what I needed. It was difficult, considering my inability to focus half the time, but it was doable. The outside was a relief, even if the noises were that of a city. It reminded me of home, New York. Jack, Gabe, Alex, and Danny had picked me up there, starving. Now here I was, working a job at a Japanese fast food restaurant in a mall, and thousands of years smarter and more mature. Not to mention thousands of years evolved, in a Hybrid sense. Super speed and just as fast calculation skills. Wonderful powers to have, correct? You tell me; I'd never know.

Continuing to walk down the street, the presence of another person nagged at me. In the corner of my eye, I spotted another person walking on the other side of the road. I was on the way to Gabe's security firm—we were all paired up, courtesy of Jack's paranoia. Gabe and me, Alex and Sky, Ash and Zander, and Danny and Kole. Jack refused to have her own trio—and worry shot up my spine. I could run, but that would cause trouble considering it was impossible to run that fast when you were all the human, and we already had enough of that. So I was stuck as slow, boring very _human_ me.

I threw up the hood of my thick hoodie, let my hair fall into my face, and kept walking, staring at the toes of my combat boots like they were a new species. I wasn't going to go to Gabe if the figure kept following me; it was just as bad as a betrayal, leading a possible agent from the School to the rest of the Pack. The act was just something that you didn't do. It was common sense for a Hybrid.

I glanced in a window, catching the glimpse of a female figure. Long, dark-brown hair, grey blue eyes, and a model-worthy figure. Gorgeous facial features. This random girl, however pretty, had nothing suspicious about her other than her following me for the past two blocks, and yet, still, tremors darted across my back.

My speed increased to a point where I was itching to break into a run. Looking into another window, I watched the girl in her late-teens reach into her charcoal grey coat pocket. With a single glance around me, I realized we were in the ghetto part of the town, and not a single, solitary soul was in sight. The girl brought her arm out again, a specialized hand gun following.

"Oh sh—" The curse didn't make its way fully out of my mouth because a bullet whizzed over my head as I dropped to the ground. This time, I did sprint, not too fast because of the ice that I was already sliding dangerously on. There was one thought, pulsing through my mind in a mantra: _run, run, run, run, run._

Several more bullets whizzed too close for comfort. There was a silencer on the gun, I knew that much; there was no loud _boom!_ or shot ringing through the air.

A body slammed into my form, and my head went for the cement. My cheek hit the cement, the pain sharp, bitter and cold. A hiss came from above me. I growled in response. The girl ripped my arms into a place where she could restrain them. The girl spoke: "I got her, Rider... No, its not that one. Tell Chase to get his panties out of a twist... Okay, fine. Well, I've got one so just calm the hell down, okay? ... Fine."

I had a feeling she wasn't talking to me. "You know, it's impolite to tackle people," I ground out as vehemently as I could with my jaw smashed into the ground.

The girl didn't answer. "I bet Rider is a control freak," I tried again.

I was testing waters, seeing what she would explode at. Rider obviously wasn't a weak point, and she wasn't just going to talk for the hell of it. "Not to mention Chase sounds like a bitc—"

The girl shoved my face into the cement harder, and tears welled up in my eyes. "Shut up," she hissed next to my ear, pressing my face harder into the ice. By now, the icy burn had gone numb, "if you know what's best for you, girl."

A bark of laughter came out. "So that's who your man is, huh?"

The girl cussed. Even that small piece of information was too much; she'd failed. And now, all that was left to do was to wait, and see the outcomes, I thought. And I knew for sure that when the waiting was up, Hell was going to explode like nobody had ever seen. When did it not?


	9. Polaroid Instant Camera

**Author's Note: **So its been a while... Sorry /:I've been working on another piece to post when I'm done with this if you like it. If not I'll start working on another piece and see how you like that one and so forth. I'll put it's summary/sneak peek at the bottom, and you guys can tell me if you would even be interested in reading it. But back to the current story at hand. Enjoy, and review!

Something you should keep in mind: the 10th pack member, Renée. She'll be a big part in this sequel.

**X X X**

**It's always darkest before the dawn—Shake It Out, Florence+The Machine**

**X X X**

The Hybrid Origin: Chapter Nine

January, 2005

JACK

I was laying on my mattress in the living room when Gabe busted inside the house, chest heaving and eyes wild. I immediately shot up, my attention all his. He was never, ever worked up. He was typically always mellow. "What is it?" I asked, an edge of panic in my voice.

"Morgann's missing," he gasped out.

I was now on my feet. "They've found us

Gabriel nodded. "I think so. It's not like her."

My pacing began. So did the muttered worries.

"Jack, they sent pictures." Gabe reached into his bag, a tan, burlap sack number, and when he removed his hand an envelope followed.

I snatched the envelope from him, and opened it with shaking hands. My pacing stopped. The photos were taken with a Polaroid instant camera. There were three, just three, and all of them were snapshots of her life over the past seven months. The first photo, it shook me to the core. It was of Renée in her cage. She was sitting Indian style with her eyes closed and new scars flecked her arms, legs, anywhere visible. She was rail thin, her collarbone appearing thin and delicate. It was probably two months after the battle in the woods.

The second was worse, and horrifying in a way that I supposed mothers would consider it. Renée was pinned down on the floor by a boy—the same one that had been at the club, I realized—and her teeth her were bared, sharper and even more canine than ours, the Pack's. She was still skinny in this picture, but her figure had started to change in a way I couldn't define. She wasn't skinny, as if she was starving, but rather as if she were in a _metamorphic_ state; it was strange. Renée looked angry, furious, in a way that was sure to bring out her power. Sure enough, her eyes were just starting to obtain their reddish glow in the picture. The boy was smirking, and Renée was glaring, craning her neck up as if she was attempting to _bite_ the boy. It would explain her bared teeth.

A sticky note was placed on the third, the word _Motivation._ written in neat cursive. I peeled the hote off carefully, dreading the image. And I did for good reason. The third picture—it sent tremors up my spine. It was simple, not violent like the second, or despairing like the first. It was hopeless and broken, with Renée standing over a fight victim. Her knuckles were broken and bloody, and her scars were even more visible in this one, trailing along her spine, shoulders and sides, like paint on a canvas. Her shoulders were broken in, slumping forward, and her hung hung low. She was so...Hopeless, as if she was a horse they had broken in.

Frozen. That's what I was. Renée had a possibility of being alive. And we'd left her. Renée could've been alive, and we'd left her. Kole was so shattered over her. And we'd _left_ her.

Kole was going to be pissed, if that even covered it.

I shoved the photos back in the envelope and gave it back to Gabe. "Don't tell Kole," I muttered, rubbing my eyes with my thumb and pointer finger.

"Why? Shouldn't he have the right to know?"

"We don't know who Renée is anymore. She could've changed, I'm not sure if he could take that, too. Trust me, I know," I replied in a hushed voice.

Gabe nodded, but a look in his eyes still thought that I should tell Kole. _He's right. You should. He has a right_, Rea thought.

I didn't reply. "What do we do then? I'm not leaving anyone behind after..." Gabe trailed off. I suppose he blamed himself. We all blamed ourselves for Renée.

I laughed dryly. "Ever heard of a rescue miss—"

A bullet whizzed past my face and into the drywall. Gabe and myself shared a look. That was all it took before I screamed, _"Daniel! Kole! We need to run! NOW!"_

I moved to the kitchen where hopefully we were out of sight. A few thumps were heard, and a disgruntled Daniel and an alert Kole appeared. "They've found us."

Daniel straightened visibly. He swore. "Seriously?"

I shot him a look. "No, I just screamed randomly to get you off your behinds. Now, there's a sniper out there. I'm not sure if they were tranqs or actual bullets. Be warned. We have to get out. Morgann's been taken, and I'm not sure of the rest." I left out the envelope, and Gabe avoided my gaze.

"Morgann's been taken," Kole repeated, more as a statement than a question. "And we have to get out of here. I think I've got an answer."

"What?" Gabe inquired, shifting his weight from one foot to another, still crouched down like the rest of us.

"I have a truck out in the garage that I've been working on. I just finished last week, and I've been waiting for some paint to come, but I don't think you're concerned with a paint job. I've got some spare gas in there, and we could drive out of here."

I arched an eyebrow. "Does anyone know how to even drive?"

Silence met my question. I sighed. "Zander does...?" Daniel offered.

I mentally envisioned a brick wall. "Well, that's peachy, isn't it? The _one person_ that can drive isn't here. So let's hope our healing skills are still workin' 'cause I ain't guaranteeing that we're surviving my nonexistent driving skills," I spoke, more to myself than anyone else.

Everyone nodded since there was no other option. _Drive it like you stole it, Jackson_, Rea commented, a touch of humor detectable in her voice.

I smiled to myself before turning back to the present. "Let's get this plan in motion."

**X X X**

So here's the summary and first paragraph of the possible story. Tell me if I should keep working on it on the sidelines?

**Summary:** "What did you do to me?" I whispered. The doctor looked at me as if the answer was obvious. "We changed you, Cassiopeia. We wanted to see if we could take someone like you, and make them something incredible. To rewrite the script." "Well," I drawled, my voice shaking, "I'm still human."

**Paragraph: W**hen I used to attend school, before I was kidnapped, my English teacher told me to start my essay's with hooks. Not a question, because that was too elementary, but with a fact or something of the such to draw in the reader, and then some background knowledge, to ensure that the reader knew enough about the topic. So here's my hook and introduction: My name is Cassiopeia Wither, named after the constellation. I was kidnapped at age fourteen, taken from my family, and altered in a lab dubbed the School, an experiment. People, if they could even be called that, named White Coats enjoyed to watch me scream in pain—emotional and physical—and their weapons of agony ranging from a new test to the death of a friend. They enjoyed injecting me with chemicals and genes, whispering excitedly as they did so about their hypotheses.

R&R? 'Bout the chappie and possible new story?(;


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